


The Very Cliche Motel Clex Fic

by museaway



Category: Smallville
Genre: First Time, Humor, M/M, happy!Clex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-06-15
Updated: 2004-06-15
Packaged: 2017-11-01 05:22:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/352426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/museaway/pseuds/museaway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Explain to me just why you're going to spend the night in a motel alone with Lex Luthor?" (Every cliche in the book -- A convenient flat tire! A motel room with only one bed! Chopsticks! The heat doesn't work! Lex has nightmares! -- conveniently packaged for your enjoyment.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Very Cliche Motel Clex Fic

**Author's Note:**

> The fortunes are real. I (used to) have them in my notebook.
> 
> I've seen the Lifetime movie in question. He doesn't get arrested. Clark watching Lifetime is a concept too good to pass up. I can see him becoming completely addicted to the melodrama and forcing Lex to watch it when Lex is home sick.
> 
> Written for the happy!Lex movement. June 15, 2004

"Explain to me just why you're going to spend the night in a motel alone with Lex Luthor?"

Clark rubbed the side of his face and sighed into the cellphone.

"Because Lex blew a tire and it'll take two hours for someone to drive out here and pick us up. So we decided we'll just crash here for the night and come home in the morning."

"Don't you have a spare?"

"No."

"Can't you leave him there and just run home?"

"That wouldn't look suspicious _at all_."

Clark heard his father exhale and was satisfied he'd just won.

"Well, come home bright and early. The cows --"

"Won't feed themselves. I know."

"And get some sleep. Don't be up all night talking about..."

"Business mergers? Don't worry. We won't."

"Okay. Well, g'night, son."

"Night, dad. Say hi to mom for me."

"I will."

Clark flipped the phone closed and handed it back to Lex who, smirking, tucked it into his pocket and climbed out of the Ferrari. Grabbing his jacket from the backseat, Clark scrambled after him and stood waiting while Lex locked the car. Then unlocked it and locked it again for good measure.

"Can't ever be too sure," he remarked and strolled off toward the motel's office. Clark pulled on his jacket to ward off the night air and trailed after him.

Now, Clark had only ever stayed in motels a few times, as the majority of his life had been spent trapped in Smallville, so he was actually pretty excited at the prospect of getting cable and room service and those little bars of soap Chloe hoarded whenever she went on vacation. Walking into the office, however -- which consisted of a broken folding chair and a faded poster of Metropolis from the early eighties -- Clark had a sneaking suspicion that they didn't _have_ room service here. He tried not to be overly disappointed. He'd once heard his mother say something about the ice cream costing five dollars.

Lex stood with an arm resting on the counter and very politely rang the desk bell. Clark's eyes widened, and he walked forward with fingers outstretched to strike it as well, but Lex put out a hand, shook his head and mouthed "no," then directed Clark to the broken chair. Clark remained standing and scuffed his boots along the floor.

A tired looking man in an unfortunate flannel shirt that even Clark wouldn't consider wearing stepped through a small door that probably led to a private office and yawned loudly. "What can I do for you?" he asked, not bothering to cover his mouth as he yawned a second time.

"A room, please. Two beds, non smoking."

The man blinked at Lex and then broke out into a grin. "I can give you a room, but you'll have to settle for a single bed."

"Exactly why is that?" Lex asked, leaning forward slightly. Clark assumed this was an attempt on Lex's part to look intimidating. Clark just thought it worked to pull Lex's black jacket really tight across his shoulder blades, which looked kinda nice. Same way his pants fit just right and hugged his ass really --

"Metropolis Sharks have a home game tomorrow," the man said, moving over to a computer from the dawn of time and pressing a few keys. "You're just lucky we had a cancellation. Been booked up for weeks. There's not a hotel this side of the city free tonight, let alone one with two beds. But, there is a large floor in the room. I suspect one of you gentlemen can sleep there."

"Thank you," Lex muttered.

"Name?"

"Luthor."

"Address?"

Lex's shoulders rose and fell in his exhale, and he presented his drivers' license instead, allowing the man to copy it while he turned to Clark and made a face Clark was quite sure only he had ever seen on Lex Luthor. Clark laughed and covered his mouth, then coughed and studied the old Metropolis poster. It looked to be pre-Luthorcorp because he couldn't see the building towering over the city. That was too bad. Lex had a great view from the penthouse.

When the man was finished, Lex turned back and said, "I don't suppose there's any possibility of getting food delivered at this hour?"

The man forked over a worn Chinese takeout menu along with the room key and said, "They're open pretty late. Never had a problem with food poisoning, either."

"How reassuring," Lex deadpanned, turning toward the door and motioning to Clark to follow.

Their room -- and how strange was it to be saying _that_? -- was located in Siberia. Or rather, on the very far side of the motel. Clark stared hungrily at every rusting vending machine they passed and felt about in his dress pants pockets for spare change. Lex eventually took pity on him and handed him a dollar, which he immediately dispensed on a bag of Doritos. Lex let him keep the forty cents in change and muttered something about too many preservatives. Clark was too busy happily munching away to care. He brushed neon-orange crumbs from his mouth and said, "Want some?"

"Those things are so bright, they're probably radioactive."

"They still taste good," he retorted over the next mouthful, though it was suspiciously pout-like.

Lex said something that might've been "yes, dear," although Clark couldn't figure out _why_ Lex would say something like that. He also couldn't think of anything that sounded similar, either, so he decided just not to think on it at all.

After climbing a questionable set of stairs, they stopped outside room 237, only the three was missing and instead represented by the faded outline where the piece of iron was once affixed. Clark went to lean against the railing but noted the way it was warped and bent in places, so he squinted and stared up at the stars while Lex fiddled with the lock and pushed the door open. He was so transfixed with how bright Venus was that he didn't notice Lex go inside and leave him alone on the walkway until the billionaire called after him, "Planning to sleep outside?" Grinning and blushing a little, Clark returned his eyes to earth and followed Lex inside, closing the door behind him and locking it.

Lex was perched on the edge of the bed punching numbers into his cellphone, so Clark decided to lift any and all mini soaps _now_ , just in case Lex decided to tell him that stealing soap from a motel room was, like, illegal or something. Clark could just imagine himself being dragged away in a pair of handcuffs charged with ten years to life for the crime of taking a lye-based substance from a Motel Whatever this was and consequently ruining any chances of success for Lex's most recent business deal. Clark tucked the bars of soap deep in his pockets, then returned one to the counter for hand washing purposes.

"No, cash," Lex was saying. "Yes, I'm quite sure I have enough. Mmhm. Twenty-five minutes? Fine. Yes. Thank you."

"What'd you get?" Clark asked as Lex threw the phone aside and bent down to untie his shoes.

Clark tilted his head. He wasn't sure he'd ever seen Lex with a tie but without shoes before. Come to think of it, he hadn't ever really seen Lex in any state of undress except maybe a t-shirt once and those few times they went swimming. Lex had worn those deep burgundy swim trunks that hung on his body like a second skin. Yeah. There were _those_ times.

But the shoes, that was something else. Somehow, that almost seemed -- intimate. Like something he only did when he was by himself.

"Pretty much everything in column A," Lex said. "I figured you were hungry. And I've seen how much you eat. My chef finally asked me to warn her in advance whenever you're planning to drop by for lunch."

Neatly folding his socks, Lex laid them alongside his shoes on the dresser. The skin atop his feet was even paler than that on his face and hands, Clark noted. He had thin ankles, delicate bone structure. Biting his lip, Clark slipped his arms from his jacket and let it drop to the floor. Lex raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything, instead grabbing the remote and flipping past television channels until he came to some news network. Sighing, Clark sank down next to him. Figures the one time he had access to premium movie channels, Lex would make him watch the news.

Well, it wasn't like he hadn't _ever_ had cable before. The mansion pulled in a couple hundred channels via satellite. He and Lex watched part of _Dirty Dancing_ dubbed in French, once, before Lex said something about implausible storylines and the problem with perpetuating impossible fairytales, then turned until he came to stock reports. This was sadly familiar.

For a moment, Clark considered chucking a piece of soap at his head, then making off with the remote. He supposed he could always superspeed it away from him, but Clark doubted his dad would be very happy about that.

" _I'm sorry_. _Did you say Lex Luthor knows about your abilities because you tried to steal the remote_?"

"What's going on in the world?" Clark asked, feigning interest.

"Nothing," Lex lamented, falling back against the covers.

Which was just...weird.

Clark stared down at the tiny sliver of stomach peeking out where Lex's shirt had come untucked. No hair. And _then_ Clark had to wonder if that hairlessness extended, like, _everywhere_. Cause that'd be...well, actually, Clark wasn't really sure what that would be, but now he was really curious. This was, of course, a time when his x-ray vision would prove really useful, but this was Lex. His best friend. And something about that level of privacy invasion just seemed wrong.

Maybe he could catch a glimpse while Lex changed for bed. At least that wouldn't require any superpowers. Just a simple, "Oops, sorry," and a wealth of information would be gained.

Good plan.

Lex lay with an arm across his face and tossed the remote Clark's way.

"Watch whatever you want," he said. "I'm gonna take a shower."

Suddenly, Clark felt he'd won the Battle of the Remote way too easily and thought about fighting for the shower instead. Why he got so much pleasure of arguing with Lex was totally beyond him. Maybe it was because Lex's ears turned pink at the tips when he was trying not to laugh.

Yeah. That might've been it.

Of course, these thoughts were successfully obliterated when Lex sat up and started unbuttoning his shirt. Could Clark have managed thought at that moment, he might've asked _why_ Lex was changing right next to him. But he couldn't think, just swallowed kinda hard and started blindly pressing buttons on the remote until closed captions were flashing up on the screen in Spanish and Lex's pants hit the floor.

A beat of sweat rolled down the side of Clark's face, and he licked it away when it met the corner of his mouth. The water started running when he realized he'd had his eyes closed and lifted his eyelids slowly. The bathroom door was cracked slightly, and Clark had to wonder if Lex did that on purpose. Like a challenge. _Go on_ , _Clark_. _I dare you_. Or was he just being polite? In case Clark had to use the bathroom? Or maybe Clark was reading way too much into everything.

He stretched his legs out before him and tried not to concentrate on the distinct lathering sound coming from the bathroom. The soft humming of a tune Clark didn't recognize. The image of his naked best friend and damnit, when had he switched into x-ray vision?

And where did Lex get _abs_ like that?

This probably wasn't normal, Clark supposed, sitting here getting hard over his best friend who really didn't have any hair anywhere.

Right.

Now the pants were definitely getting a little tight. Think unpleasant things, he thought. Unsexy things. Birthing cows. Draining the old oil from the tractor. Lana in her underwear.

Oh yeah. That did it.

Clark supersped to the sink and splashed his face with cold water. Reached for a thin, bleached towel and pressed it to his face when there was a knock on the door. Clark jumped and the towel fell into the sink. He looked through the door and saw a delivery man standing with an oversized bag of takeout and relaxed. He walked over to the door and unlocked it.

"Hi," the guy said, shifting his weight to his other foot. "That'll be $56.28."

Clark blinked and patted his pockets, turning up forty cents and a spare button.

"Hang on," he told the guy and padded over to the bathroom door. Knocking twice, he swung it in and poked his head into the steam-filled room.

"Lex?"

A wet hand brushed aside the shower curtain. Lex had soap bubbles dotting his shoulders and left collarbone. Not that Clark noticed or anything.

"Joining me?" Lex asked.

Clark's brain shorted out. He stood dumbly and stared before the smell of warm soy sauce drifted across the room.

"Oh! The food's here. You need to pay. I would, but I've only got forty cents."

"Just get my wallet from the nightstand," Lex directed, his fingers curling around the edge of the curtain. "And don't forget to tip him."

"Your wallet?"

"Yes, my wallet. The place where I keep money?"

Clark swallowed. Lex gave him a modified roll of the eyes and laughed.

"It's okay, Clark. I trust you not to run off with my credit cards."

The curtain swished closed, and Clark went and did as Lex instructed, his eyes growing wide when he saw just now much money Lex carried around with him at one time. He pulled out a fifty and a twenty, did a little quick math in his head, then trotted to the door and pressed the bills into the man's hand with a very proud, "Keep the change."

Taking the gigantic bag of food, he locked the door and crawled onto the center of the bed. One by one, he pulled the individual boxes from the bag and set them in a semicircle before him. Lex hadn't been exaggerating when he said he ordered most of column A. There were three beef dishes, one pork, one chicken, and one that looked purely vegetarian. Clark decided to leave that one for Lex and happily started in on the beef and broccoli, digging out a mouthful with his fingers and tilting his head back to get a better angle at his mouth. The sauce was pleasantly salty against his tongue, and he licked it from his fingers before reaching in for another bite.

Clark was fully engrossed in a Lifetime movie about a highschool cheerleader having an affair with an older married man when the water shut off and Lex joined him on the bed in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. Little water drops peppered his chest and stomach, and his arm brushed Clark's when he reached for the bag and took out a pair of chopsticks. He snapped them apart, then opened the nearest carton and poked around until he pulled out a tomato, biting down on it with a pleased expression while Clark looked on over the top of his own box.

Lex's eyes met his, and they seemed to widen the slightest bit when Clark's tongue darted out and wet his lips.

"Do you like it?" Lex asked.

Clark nodded.

"Yeah," he said. "It's really good."

"I'm glad," Lex said, fishing with his chopsticks & coming up with a water chestnut. "Even though we've been best friends for a few years, I'm still not entirely clear on your preferences."

"Meat," Clark said through his probably-very-obvious reddening face. "Anything with meat is good."

"I'll remember that."

Feeling his throat constrict, Clark cast his eyes back toward the TV, where the blonde cheerleader was hiding in the bushes outside the guy's house. He chewed quietly on a piece of beef and tried to decipher the subtitles. Paying better attention in Spanish class would've been a good idea, he decided. Lex probably spoke Spanish. Lex probably spoke a lot of foreign languages. Like French and German and whatever it was they spoke in Scotland. Which might've been English, but Clark didn't want to assume.

He _did_ want to know why the stupid girl in the movie was glued to the stupid older guy who wasn't even that attractive. Sure, yeah, he was the classic tall, dark, and handsome, but Lex had already blown that standard out of the water. Tall, pale, and when the hell had Lex Luthor become Clark's beauty ideal?

He needed to check out what the corn was being fed right away.

Maybe there had been another toxic spill on the farm and it was affecting Clark's ability to think in Lex's proximity. Things had been really weird around him lately. When Clark made deliveries to the mansion, Lex didn't hover around him like a bald moth and offer him something to drink the way he always did for the first couple of years. Didn't stand around in a sweater with hands in his pockets and ask Clark about girl trouble. Sometimes, he'd pop his head in and say hi, but most days, he was nowhere to be seen. That or really busy. They didn't play pool anymore in the afternoons, and Lex's barn visits had dwindled to the point where they were the exception rather than the rule.

Clark wondered if this had to do with _him_ or with _Lex_ or maybe with them both, cause this definitely wasn't the way best friends were supposed to act around each other. It wasn't how they _used_ to act. This was more the way he used to act around Lana.

He crunched down on a broccoli stem. The towel around Lex's waist had loosened and draped softly over the curve of his hip. It gaped out so that there was the sliver of a shadow low on his stomach, and Clark realized he was staring. Well, it wasn't _staring_ exactly. It was just...appreciating how hard Lex worked to maintain his physique.

Mmhm.

Soon he was looking down into a very empty takeout box and reached for another, coming up with orange chicken and Lex's fingers brushing at his mouth.

"You had a little sauce there," he explained, wiping his hand on the ever-loosening towel and casting his eyes on the television screen. Clark licked where Lex had touched him.

"Let me guess," Lex went on. "An older, wealthy man has taken advantage of a young, naive highschool student."

Clark choked on his chicken, coughing violently. Lex moved closer and patted his back until Clark nodded that he was all right.

"Sorry," Lex said.

"It's fine," Clark assured him. "Just went down wrong."

"Sure?"

"Yeah."

Lex's hand felt nice and warm on his back, and Clark leaned into it until it fell away and left that spot a little cold.

"Can I have a bite of that?" Lex asked, motioning with his chopsticks. Clark held the box out and watched as Lex moved bits of chicken aside until he found the one he wanted, then lifted it to his lips and sucked it inside. Slowly licked the sauce from his mouth. Slid the chopsticks out and chewed thoroughly before swallowing. He did all this with his right hand pressed to his throat, Clark noted, which added unnecessary attention to how Lex's adam's apple bobbed gently when he ate.

Not forgetting that Lex was sitting in front of him with hardly anything on.

If Clark hadn't been sure of Lex's sexuality (he'd been married twice, and just _how_ long had Victoria lurked around the mansion?), Clark would almost have thought that Lex was flirting. Which was a silly idea, anyway, because Lex was Lex, and Clark was just Clark, a clumsy big-handed farmboy whose knowledge of the Real World was limited to what the public television station documented on Saturday night, and a few late sessions on Pete's computer.

Why would anybody like Lex ever want anyone like him? Maybe for fun. Maybe for a summer thing. A way to pass the time while he was stuck in Smallville.

But, no. They'd been friends far too long. If it was going to happen, it would've happened already. Lex wouldn't have bothered to build up a friendship for two and a half years first, then spring a "by the way, I just wanna jump you" on him.

Add that to Lex's definite heterosexuality and the fact that he had basically ignored Clark for weeks, and Clark could almost certainly rule out flirting.

Unless that's what _he_ was doing by licking his fingers and staring Lex down at the same time.

This wasn't going well.

This was just supposed to be a quick hop to Metropolis to open some new museum wing, and Clark was doing Lex a favor by going along in place of his date who'd cancelled last minute. Which kinda made Clark Lex's date by default. Huh. He hadn't exactly thought about that. He'd just been so glad to get Lex's call and hear the words "pick you up in two hours" that he hadn't really focused on the details.

Realizing he'd finished another box of food, he reached for a third, something with cashews in a brown sauce. Shrugging, he tried a bite. Not bad. And the cashews had a waxy feel on his teeth. Clark wondered if Lex really expected the two of them to sit and eat all of this food or if he'd mind skipping ahead to fortune cookies in a minute.

Lex seemed focused on the movie, and the towel had slid enough that a whole section of his thigh was showing. Clark wondered if maybe he should start questioning his own sexuality.

The towel, which Clark had now become quite sure was mocking him, looked like it was about to fall away completely, so Clark pawed through the bag until he came across what he hoped would be a distraction.

"Fortune cookie?" he offered.

Grinning (and that looked so good on him, Clark wished he'd do it a lot more often), Lex pulled the towel back into place and took the cookie in hand. They both tore off the plastic wrappers and flung them aside. Clark snapped his cookie in half and pulled out the thin strip of paper while Lex tried to ease it out the side. Eventually, he too resorted to breaking and ate a small piece while Clark puzzled over his fortune.

"What's yours say?" Lex asked, setting his own aside.

Clark cleared his throat and read off, "You are going to have a new love affair. Lucky numbers 7, 8, 12, 29, 35 and 37."

"Sounds exciting."

"I guess. What about yours?"

"You are doomed to be happy in wedlock."

"Doomed?"

"Doomed."

"They obviously know you pretty well," Clark snorted.

Lex regarded him for a pause. "Sarcasm suits you," he said and gave a small smile. "Are you finished?"

Clark looked guiltily at the uneaten food and patted his stomach.

"I'm kinda full," he said. "But I might be hungry during the night.

Lips pursed, Lex considered this. "Well, I'm sure a few hours without refrigeration won't kill you."

Clark beamed, set the boxes on the dresser, and jumped back onto the bed, making Lex laugh.

"It's amazing," he said. "So many people I know act like completely different versions of themselves once they put on a tie, but you...you're exactly the same."

Clark fiddled with his shirt collar. "Is that bad?"

"Not at all," Lex said, leaning over to loosen Clark's tie. "It means you aren't fake."

"Oh."

"Don't worry," Lex whispered, his fingers brushing along Clark's throat. "That's a very good thing."

Maybe Lex being bisexual wasn't a total stretch.

"Okay."

Lex sat back and raised his arms over his head in a yawn. Clark's tie slithered down Lex's wrist before it was flung aside. "Are you tired?"

"A little," Clark admitted, brushing crumbs from his lap.

"Good. Because I was planning to sleep soon."

Clark nodded.

"Did you want the bed?"

Blinking, Clark asked, "What?"

"Do you want the floor or the bed?" Lex clarified, illustrating Clark's two choices with his hands.

"Well, the bed, but -- you don't have to sleep on the floor." The blood was rushing into Clark's face at speeds approaching that of light. "I mean, we can both sleep in the bed."

"Are you sure?" Lex asked, staring at the pillows with what Clark could classify only as an uneasy glance.

"Sure," Clark shrugged. "It's big enough for two."

Lex gave a quiet laugh and patted Clark's knee. "I'll be right back." Sliding from the bed, he retreated into the bathroom again.

Clark pulled his dress shirt off and threw his pants across the chair beneath the window. He drew the curtains tightly closed and shut off the lights. The bed and walls glowed softly in the flickering light from the television screen, but even that didn't help to make the place look any less dumpy.

With the cool air of the room circling his legs, Clark pulled back the comforter and sheets. He arranged the pillows and settled back against the headboard with his knees drawn up to his chest and waited for Lex.

What a man without hair to style who'd already showered could _possibly_ find to do in the bathroom for ten minutes was beyond Clark. The only thing Clark ever did in the bathroom at night was jerk off. Somehow, he couldn't quite imagine Lex doing that. Not in a cheap motel room when it was dark outside and the people next door were -- wow.

Whoever it was had _lungs_.

But for some reason or another, Clark had always just assumed that when you were as rich as Lex, you paid people to do it for you. Professional hand jobs. A part of him always hoped that's what Victoria was; just a really, really expensive prostitute.

The thought of Lex using his own hands to touch himself was just...

Not that Clark had any _proof_ that Lex was even _doing_ that.

Okay, so maybe he'd spied for just a _moment_. That x-ray vision should've come with an instruction manual.

But, something was definitely wrong with Clark. Seriously wrong. Because he really should've left on his pants. It was one thing to get kinda turned on by a mostly-naked partially-wet man sucking on chopsticks. Something about proximity. And the slurping noises.

But it had to be another thing to get hard over a guy jerking off in the next room.

That was like. Specific. That was about Clark imagining (or, really, more like watching) Lex get himself off with his forehead pressed against the bathroom's tiled wall.

Maybe Chloe hadn't been kidding when she'd mentioned that whole, "I need that article on gym mats by tomorrow, Clark, and have you ever considered that you might be gay?"

Flipping the pillow around to his lap, Clark considered how much this situation _sucked_.

And not in a fun way.

He also wondered how he was going to explain the tented sheet. He could always flop over onto his stomach. Pretend he's asleep. But then he wouldn't be able to watch the end of the movie. Not like he'd seen the past ten minutes, but whatever.

On his stomach, facing the foot of the bed -- that could work. Lex would come to bed, fall asleep, and Clark could use that time to calm down.

Plus, he'd figure out if this creepy guy would get arrested for what he did to the cheerleader.

He arranged himself on the bed and had his head cradled in his hands when Lex finally emerged from the bathroom (glowing and looking rather sated) and quietly climbed into bed. The mattress dipped under his weight, and Clark looked back at him with a small grin.

Lex had on only a pair of boxers, loose fitting and as delicate looking as he was. He looked very different from the way he did in a suit, Clark thought. Small and breakable. Blue tinted in the low light. He smiled at Clark and disappeared underneath the covers.

Clark traced his eyes along the mound of blanketed Lex until he came to his feet. Biting his lip, Clark found himself wanting to curl up next to him. It was a strange thought, one Clark hadn't really ever had about anyone before. Maybe Lana once or twice, when she was puffy-eyed and crying about her parents, but even then, it was mainly only a plan to get her to stop talking. It wasn't like this.

Maybe it had to do with their brother connection. Something about breathing someone back to life. Maybe best friends always wanted to hug each other. Or maybe he really was gay.

That wasn't the most comforting thought. It was serving to not only freak Clark out but also to drain any of his remaining interest in the stupid movie.

He turned off the TV and let the remote drop to the floor. He couldn't see for the darkness and remained still, waited for his eyes to adjust.

In a rustle of sheets, Lex was sitting up and placing a hand on his back. His voice was low. A bit husky.

"Are you all right?"

"Huh?" Clark whipped his head around in the dark. "Oh, yeah. I'm fine."

"Are you going to sleep down there?"

"Down-- oh, I was just turning off the TV."

Clark barely saw the outline of Lex settling back into his pillow.

"How was your movie?"

"Good," Clark lied. "I'm sorry if I woke you."

"I hadn't fallen asleep yet. Was trying to work out a few things before I return to the office tomorrow."

Clark crawled underneath the sheet and let his eyes fall closed. "D'you ever stop thinking?"

He heard Lex chuckle. "I can't afford to stop thinking."

"Even when you're sleeping?"

"Even then."

After a while, Lex's breathing slowed, and the people next door quieted down. Clark wondered if Lex had been listening to them, too. Weird. He lay listening to the whirring sounds of passing traffic. A man flossing his teeth three doors away. The James Bond marathon on TNT the motel manager was watching. Lex's heartbeat. Mellow. Rhythmic. So much like any other heartbeat and yet...not.

It was something Clark had started to notice when he first developed his advanced hearing skills -- heartbeats, human ones, were to his ears as unique as fingerprints. If he listened carefully, he could distinguish the slightest variations in one heart's pattern versus another.

He'd learned first on his parents. Then Pete. His was forceful. Chloe's reminded him of a butterfly. Now Lex's. Slow, like his father's. Steady, the way waves lick the shoreline.

It echoed in his head as he drifted off to sleep. Played as the soundtrack to a dream where Lex invited him into the shower, and Clark didn't back away. Lex's hands were smoothing soap across Clark's back when another sound met his ears and woke him: a steady chattering.

Teeth.

Something he'd only heard from his mother on bitter cold winter nights. Pushing himself up on his forearms, he rubbed his eyes and focused on Lex's skeleton. His knees were drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped around his body. Clark nudged his shoulder.

"Are you cold?"

Lex's response was muffled by his pillow.

"What?" Clark prodded, and he watched while Lex lifted his head and rolled over to face him.

"I said, when you don't have any body hair, you tend to cool off quickly."

That brought back a torrent of mental images, but Clark pushed them aside. "Want me to turn up the heat?"

"If you want," Lex said, pulling the covers up to his chin. "Though I turned it on when we came in. I don't think it's working."

"D'you want a blanket?"

"There aren't any."

Clark furrowed his brow and considered his options. Let Lex get even colder, or Get Over It for a little while and share some of his excess body heat. It wouldn't be cuddling. Just. Helping his best friend to warm up. Not that he'd exactly jump at the opportunity to do this with Pete, but then again, Pete never got cold.

Reaching out, he placed a hand atop Lex's hip and pulled him closer. Arranged his other arm so it supported Lex's head and closed his eyes when their knees bumped together. Lex smelled like something really expensive, and it made Clark's stomach tighten. Lex cleared his throat.

"What're you doing?"

"Warming you up," Clark mumbled. "Go to sleep."

"I don't believe I've ever been warmed up this way before," Lex murmured against Clark's cheek.

"I never get cold, so you'll have to tell me if it's working."

"You never get cold?"

"Nope. I've been hot since I was born."

"Really." The smirk was audible.

"I meant, warm."

"I see."

"Yeah."

"Clark?" His voice was a whisper across Clark's cheek.

"Hm?"

"Go to sleep."

Clark thought it would be difficult to fall asleep, given all the thoughts going through his head. But with Lex (um, wow?) in his arms, exhaling against his face, Clark began to drift.

...

Clark was standing next to the vortex of a tornado sweeping through the town with a hand pressed along its back side as though he were guiding it along its path. All around him, dirt kicked up and swirled so that he could not see what lay behind or in front of the destruction. He pushed his fingers into the funnel cloud and barely felt the scrape of scrap metal and tree limbs hitting his skin. And then soft, something smooth colliding with his elbow. Thrusting his hand deep inside the cloud, he fought the rush of wind and closed his fingers around a cold wrist. Gripped as tightly as he dared and began to pull the mass from the storm.

The squeal of twisting metal rose sharp and high-pitched in his ears. He fought to tune it out and placed his second hand into the cloud as well. The moment passed frame by frame, backlighted by the strobe of lightening behind the tornado. Then, the motion halted, and Clark stood amidst the whirling debris frozen mid-fall. He brushed aside a rear differential system and part of a refrigerator door. There, suspended in the littered matrix was Lex, asleep but bruised, blood dribbling from a small gash above his right eye.

Clark's heart constricted and he pulled Lex into the circle of his arms.

He woke with a start. Beside him on the bed, Lex was thrashing above the covers, sweat-covered but spread with goosebumps, head rolling across the pillow and back again. Clenched jaw, hands balled into fists. Clark placed a hand on his shoulder to still him, but Lex only thrashed harder. Opened his mouth and tried to form words.

In the absence of any voice, what emerged were silent screams framed by pale pink lips. This, Clark thought, was much too similar to the first time Lex lay silent beside him. Something sick twisted in his stomach, like acid rising, and his hands shook as he brought a hand to steady Lex's jaw. Leaned close and breathed into his mouth. Caught notes of soap and a cologne he couldn't name when he inhaled through his nose and breathed out again. Trembling. Willing Lex to please, wake up. Curled fingers along his neck and slid his other arm around Lex's stomach to still the thrashing. Breathed out. And then it wasn't so much breathing as being consumed as the mouth beneath his closed gently around his lower lip, then opened and pressed kisses softly to the corner of his mouth. His cheek. His nose.

His trembling subsided, and Clark pulled back enough to catch his breath but didn't open his eyes. Couldn't. Fear stronger than even he was clamped them shut, and he bit down on his own lip and fell back onto the pillows.

What he'd done, it was...instinctual, but. What if Lex saw it as taking advantage?

Stupid. So stupid. Why hadn't he just poked him? Said, "Hey, wake up?" Dumped water on him? Isn't that what normal people did?

Clark's brain hoisted rainbow flags into his field of vision and waved them about until he smacked them away and told himself that he (and his cock) got the idea.

Stupid stupid stupid.

Only, the hand that danced across the back of his neck wasn't stupid. Neither was the open-mouthed kiss to his shoulder and the whispered "Thank you."

Wasn't so stupid when Lex moved closer and burrowed into his side.

Was actually pretty great when Clark lifted his head and kissed Lex's forehead.

Better when Lex scooted up and tongued the edge of Clark's ear.

Pretty fucking amazing, Clark thought, when they fell asleep nipping each other's mouths.

...

The farmboy in Clark had him awake and yawning at just after six the next morning. He rubbed sleep from his eyes and went to sit up when he realized a hand on his hip had better ideas. His heart started fluttering butterfly-fast and for a moment, he had no recollection of what had occurred the night before, only flashes of tornadoes and screaming, warm sheets and his own voice whispering, "Lex."

He marked it down to a dream until a sleepy voice mumbled, "It's so early," and Lex scratched his nails down Clark's thigh as a sort of demonstration of his point. It better served as a reminder to Clark of just what _had_ transpired between them. He swallowed hard when Lex nudged a knee between his thighs and licked good morning along his collarbone. Clark twitched. So did his...other parts.

He was gonna kill Chloe. Why couldn't she have just said, "Clark, you're _gay_ " instead of posing it as a question and making him _think_?

Well, at least now he knew. Which was better than not knowing. Because knowing came with one Lex Luthor wrapped around him in the morning. Clark wondered if that could be arranged more often. Like, every other day. Or at least Thursdays.

Lex fit nicely between his legs, Clark found, and he was just tall enough that their toes brushed together when he bit at Clark's neck. Which could prove problematic to Lex's teeth, Clark remembered, if Lex bit any harder.

Invulnerable skin sucked sometimes because, yeah, this whole neck-biting thing was pretty hot.

"Lex," Clark said, pushing gently at his head.

Lex obviously took this as an invitation to bite harder. Clark groaned, then (and very reluctantly) rolled away and turned on the bedside table lamp.

"What's the matter?" Lex asked, squinting against the light. "Too hard?"

"Um," Clark said, "No, not exactly. See..." He scrubbed a hand over his eyes. "There's this thing I should probably tell you, like, right now, and..."

Lex leaned forward and whispered, "This wouldn't have anything to do with your being bullet proof, incredibly strong, with the ability to move at speeds that break the sound barrier despite a weakness for certain green rocks, would it?"

Clark paled. "Um."

"If so, then don't tell me. Not like this. I haven't even had coffee yet."

Regaining a hint of his color, Clark smiled and bunched the sheet at his waist. "Okay."

Lex yawned and nodded, then laid his head on Clark's lap. Clark found himself stroking Lex's scalp and smiling when Lex kissed his legs through the sheets. And his hipbones. And his...oh, yeah, _definitely_ gay.

Grinning (and how often did Lex do _that_?), Lex fingered the tented sheet and licked his mouth.

"I can take care of that for you," he whispered, exhaling hot all around him. Clark's hips pushed upward without his even _telling_ him, and yeah, that moan came from his mouth. Louder when Lex pulled the sheet back and fingered the waist of his boxers. It pretty much qualified as guttural shouts when Lex had him naked and writhing and in his _mouth_. Killing Chloe would be a bad idea.

Flowers. He'd send her flowers.

Lex opened his throat and Clark just. _Slid_ inside.

Chocolates. Chocolates would be appropriate.

Was Lex _humming_?

Fuck it. He was robbing the next bank he saw and handing Chloe cold hard cash.

"Oh my -- god, I --"

Closed his eyes and poured himself into Lex's throat. Felt his body relax and slumped against the headboard. His ears buzzed and blood pounded so loudly it drowned out everything else. Beads of sweat tricked down his face.

"I take it you liked that," Lex said, laughing, and moved to sit beside him. Clark was rendered momentarily nonverbal but managed to nod and reach for Lex's hand. Pull it against his chest. Larger than Lana's, but smooth. Holding it made sense.

Lex tongued his ear and said, "Good. We'll do it again sometime." Then he was up and moving across the room, flipping his cellphone open to check on the status of the limousine. Clark's eyes fluttered open, and he looked around dazedly at the twist of sheets and Lex, who was very much _not_ in bed any longer.

"Where're you going?" he asked, rolling onto his stomach and inhaling where Lex had lain.

"As much as I'd like to stay in bed with you all day," Lex said, covering the phone with his hand, "your father will threaten my life with a shotgun if I don't get you home this morning."

Even Clark had to admit that the shotgun thing _was_ kinda true. Not that his dad would actually kill Lex, but, he might put a few bullet holes in the limo.

"But what about you?" Clark said, motioning to the rather apparent bulge in Lex's shorts. "Don't you wanna...you know?"

Lex looked down, then met Clark's eyes and grinned. "I'll let you suck me off in the car."


End file.
